


Free Falling

by millygal



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: The law may have changed, the attitudes remain the same.





	Free Falling

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a very happy piece but...Ok, I wanted to try and deal with some of the issues that would actually have been facing a gay couple in 1973...

Ray's used to getting hassle, comes with being a copper. He's not used to getting shit in his local pub because of his sexual leanings.

On the whole, he and Chris've managed to keep their relationship under wraps. Ray's constantly looking over his shoulder, they're even still paying for Chris's 'dummy' flat so as not to arouse suspicions but apparently, they haven't been as careful as they could've been because he's got some no neck thug giving him a hard time while he tries to drink a quiet pint.

"Oi, Matty, hope you wash these glasses. I ain't drinkin' outta one that he's been suppin' from"

Ray ignores the looks and whispers and the dickhead spouting bollocks in favour of finishing his drink and calmly picking up his coat.

The skinhead doesn't give him chance to get out the door by blocking his path and jabbing a finger into his chest, "People like you, animals, filthy stinkin' animals...you should all be shot. Put outta ya misery"

Ray closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and pushes past the idiot with the bit of metal hanging out his nostril. A hand comes down on his shoulder and he's propelled into the door frame, splitting his bottom lip.

Swivelling, pushing off the wall, Ray fixes the bloke with a look that clearly says 'back off'. To his credit, he does shrink back but refuses to shut his mouth, "I've been watchin' you. Got yaself a nice little bloke ain't ya? It's sick, fuckin' sick"

Holding onto his temper, Ray shoves the bloke back far enough to get outside then walks slowly round the corner, head held high, blood trickling down his chin.

Waiting until he's clear of the pub, Ray swipes at the crimson liquid dripping off his face and swears when his sleeve catches the cut on his lip.

Six years, six bloody years and they're still being made to feel like side show attractions. It makes Ray's blood boil. They're not hurting anyone. Chris and he aren't promiscuous, they don't flaunt their life style yet still...bastards.

How many times has he had to call an ambulance for some poor fucker who's had his head kicked in because he's simply been doing something that people don't find 'normal'?

It makes Ray sick to think of the amount of men and women still skulking in shadows, hiding themselves away because of everyone's attitudes.

He can still remember the day they legalised same sex relations. Chris'd only been 20 so it was still against the 'rules' for them to be a couple but he'd been so full of hope. The kind you have when you're young and naive.

Ray'd known nothing would change, despite the look on Chris's face. He can also remember being extremely mean by snapping at him and telling him to get a grip but he'd been older and wiser and he'd had to pick up the bits of the men who'd been stupid enough to get caught.

They're lucky enough to have friends who don't judge them on their life style, not everyone's that fortunate.

Thing is, Chris knows. He's seen the horrors on the streets, had to wait with them while the ambulances came but he still can't seem to understand that they'll never be accepted by the world at large and it scares Ray. To think that one tiny slip and Chris could be on the receiving end of someone's righteous indignation.

Ray's watched him becoming more complacent as time's worn on and he desperately wants him to listen, pay attention to the fact that just because Gene Hunt and Sam Tyler are happy to ignore the tell tale signs, not everyone else is.

Chris's view of the world is a lot simpler than Ray's and Ray's grateful for that. Part of the reason Ray'd fallen in love with him in the first place was his outlook, the way he always put a good spin on things, but life isn't always like that. Ray doesn't want to take away his hope but there's gonna be a time that Chris'll have to learn, the hard way, that people aren't as forgiving as he thinks.

Rifling round for a ciggie, Ray debates whether or not to tell Chris they've been 'found out'. It's not like they spend that much time at home anyway, but...if Chris was to go out and stumble upon the twat with the nose ring...Ray'd never be able to let him out the house without worrying.

Chris's a worrier too, that's the problem. Tell him and he'll never **want** to leave the house and Ray doesn't want that for him. Living in fear in his own home because of some prick with no brain. 

Scuffing his shoes against the pavement, Ray thinks perhaps it'd be best not to say anything, not unless he has to.

*****

Chris hears a key in the lock and smiles. Wondering exactly how drunk Ray is, he stands and heads towards the door. He's still grinning when Ray walks in. He sees Ray's split lip and immediately begins to fuss, "What 'appened?"

Ray hangs his coat up and steels himself for what he's about to do. Lying's never been his strong point, especially not to Chris. He doesn't like doing it but it's better than having Chris paranoid, "S'nothin', drank too much, fell over"

Chris doesn't mention the fact he can't actually smell any alcohol on Ray's breath, not enough to warrant him coming off his feet. Best not too push, Ray's got something he wants to tell him, he'll do it in his own time.

*****

Somewhere in amongst his sleep fogged imaginings, Ray hears the tinkle of glass and someone hollering and he shoots out of bed, automatically going on alert.

Running out the flat, Chris's dozy voice calling after him, Ray pelts out into the street in time to see two men legging it round the corner. Turning back, Ray sees a hole where his front window should be and curses under his breath.

Heading back indoors, he finds Chris standing bare foot in the middle of the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and staring at the scattered pile of glass covering the carpet.

Without thinking, Chris steps forward to get a look at the window and puts his foot down on one of the bigger bits of glass. Ray instinctively reaches out when he falls backwards and lowers him to the ground, making sure not to sit him on any of the stray shards.

"Div, be careful"

Chris looks up at Ray, strands of hair falling over his face, "Wha...Who was it?"

Ray turns away and lies for the second time that day, "Dunno, must 'ave been those idiot kids from number seven. Couldn't see anyone"

Turning toward the kitchen, Ray rifles about for the first aid kit Chris insisted on buying and comes back holding a damp dishcloth and bandages. Making a grab for Chris's squirming foot, Ray holds him in place while he bathes out the chunk of glass. 

Chris flinches, tries to wriggle away and whimpers when Ray catches the edge of the shard with his thumb, "Ouch!"

Ray shakes his head and laughs to disguise the anger still pulsing to and fro behind his eyes, "Sit still then, yer a bloody great Jessy"

Chris giggles, tries not to look at the blood soaked cloth and nudges Ray's knee with his other foot, "Thought we'd established that"

Chris's easy banter and beaming smile dispel the last remnants of Ray's temper and he finds himself laughing along fully. Looking up, he fixes Chris with a stare and says, "Hold on"

Knowing exactly what's about to happen doesn't help in the slightest and Chris still yelps when Ray grips the bit of glass and yanks it quickly from his foot.

Throwing the bloodied piece of glass onto the already covered carpet, Ray wraps Chris's foot in a bandage and helps him to his feet. Steadying him before he can topple again, Ray loops an arm round his waist and frog marches him into the bedroom, "If you can't keep yaself outta trouble, you can stay in 'ere while I clean up"

Dumping him not unkindly on their bed, he goes into the bathroom to wash his hands before retrieving the dustpan and brush from beneath the sink.

By the time he gets back into the front room Chris's managed to hobble his way in and is on his knees, picking the larger bits of glass up with his hands.

"Thought I told you..."

"Hush yer whingin' an' gimme the dustpan"

Sighing and shaking his head, Ray hands it over and watches as Chris scrabbles around, sweeping errant shards into the pan. As Chris almost slides his knee onto another big bit of glass, Ray finds his anger swelling again. It comes roaring upwards from somewhere down by his toes and washes every warm thought from his mind.

How dare they do this, it's not like they've asked for it. If the Guv can put up with the way they choose to live, why can't other people? Now he's gotta decide whether or not to involve Chris and risk his disappointment for the lies.

Chris's put up with a lot of shit from Ray over the years but the one thing he can't stand is being lied to and Ray'd rather poke his own eye out than have to see that look of shame on Chris's face.

Thinking that's a conversation best left for a time they aren't sleep deprived, Ray ignores the nagging doubt picking at the back of his thoughts and goes to find something to board the window up with.

*****

"So, not only did you lie to me but you got yourself into a fight and didn't see fit to inform me that we might 'ave to bloody move 'cos of some fuckin' Neanderthal!"

They're sat in the station canteen, Ray'd thought Chris wouldn't cause a scene in front of fifty cops. He'd been wrong. While he tries to come up with a suitable explanation that'll take the hurt look out of Chris's eyes, a random thought pops into his brain.... _Neanderthal?_....Chris's been spending way too much time with Tyler.

Keeping his mouth shut, knowing Chris won't appreciate the humour in that statement, Ray looks at his hands and tries to ignore the heat radiating out across the table.

"Raymond Carling, look at me when I'm givin' you a bollockin'"

Ray raises his head, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, "I didn't wanna worry you" Chris's expression softens but Ray can still see the hurt and it twists his insides.

"S'not good enough, Ray. You know 'ow much I 'ate bein' lied to. You should've said somethin'"

Fighting the urge to reach out, Ray lowers his head again and shrugs, "I know. M'sorry"

Taking pity, Chris braves the people milling around the room and lays a hand on top of Ray's, "What did he say?"

"S'not important. He knows what we are, that's all you need to know"

Chris feels his mood flip flopping back and forth between anger and worry. They've been found out. Ray might not think so but Chris's been fretting about that for years. He'd always thought they'd gotten away with it too easy. Especially in their neighbourhood.

A flash of white light careens across Chris's vision and he feels his temper flaring, "What are we, Ray!"

Ray's head shoots up and his stomach hits his shoes, "No, Chris, I didn't mean...We're not nothin' it's jus' you know 'ow everyone thinks on people like us"

Realising it's not Ray's fault he's feeling so crappy doesn't mean Chris can control the heat prickling across his skin, "I'm sick of livin' in the shadows, sick of hidin' who I am 'cos a bunch of stuck up pricks can't understand that I...that I love you"

Scanning the room, checking to see who's sat close enough to hear, Ray sees that they're now practically alone and tangles his fingers with Chris's, "I know, right? I been about a bit longer than you an' I've seen what can 'appen an' I don't like it anymore than you do but we gotta be careful"

"The Guv an' the boss 'ave been shaggin' for months, no one gives them any grief"

Ray chuckles then realises Chris's serious, "Come on Chris, who's gonna give the Guv shit? They're in a different league. As far as anyone else is concerned, we're scum, filth, an' we've got to be careful. Please"

Grinding his teeth and shaking his head, Chris lowers his eyes and squeezes Ray's hand, "Fine, but I'm not holin' up in my own friggin' flat. We're coppers, we shouldn't 'ave to..."

"Jus', keep an' eye"

*****

Chris and Ray stumble home from the pub, laughing and enjoying the rush of alcohol and blood, not caring that they're probably being watched. They've had a good night, watching Sam trying to out do the Guv at darts and generally making a fool of himself. A night with mates has managed to banish most the earlier animosity and they've forgotten exactly what they're facing.

The high doesn't last long.

Coming round the corner, Ray spots the paint splatters first. Haphazard blotches and lines make up the word 'FAGGOTS' plastered across the boarded up window and he pulls up short, almost knocking Chris sideways.

Chris shoves against Ray and giggles until he looks up and the laughter dies in his throat, "Fuckin' bastards!"

Before Ray can stop him, Chris runs forward and starts kicking and punching the wall below the window, shouting and hollering at the top of his lungs, "Fuckin' bastard arsehole pieces of scum. Can't they leave us alone? Cunts!"

Ray barrels into the back of Chris knocking him into the window and pins his hands behind his back, "Calm down"

Well aware that curtains will now be twitching, Chris quiets down and allows Ray to push him towards the front door. 

Once inside, Chris shakes Ray off and heads into the kitchen. Coming back with a bucket and a sponge, he walks straight past Ray and outside.

Ray follows, knowing he'll not be able to stop him, and watches as Chris scrubs furiously at the vivid red paint now decorating the front of their ground floor flat.

It takes him two hours and by the time he's finished, Chris's hands are sore and bleeding but he refuses to drop the sponge, even after the only evidence is a faint outline in the wood.

*****

Chris understands he's acting like a spoilt child but Ray's doing nothing, absolutely nothing to stop the hell they're having to put up with simply because he wants an easy life. He also knows that's complete bollocks and he's taking it out on Ray because there isn't anyone else to take it out on.

The rational part of his mind is fully aware that Ray's trying to stop them getting themselves burnt out for doing something the other people in their street think is 'unnatural' but Chris can't see past the rage and indignation.

They're the good guys. They fight crime for gods sake. They just fell for someone of the same gender, what about that makes them evil?

It's been a few days since the 'paint' incident and Chris's managed to snap at Ray a total of ten times. Each time he's heard himself sounding like a complete ponce and hated himself for it but there's nothing either of them can do and it's pissing him off. Ray's just the unfortunate sod that's having to put up with his mood swings.

Trying to come up with a way of making it up to his partner, Chris's laid on a proper dinner with candles and everything. Even though he can hear Ray telling him it's girly and they smell funny, Chris continues to lay the table while Ray showers.

Still pottering around with cutlery and crockery, Chris hears something outside the flat and goes to take a look. He pulls the door open quietly, peeks outside and sees two bald bastards jumping up and down on the top of Ray's already fragile motor.

Without even thinking, Chris shouts and legs it outside.

Leaving the door wide open, Chris gives chase as they hop off the car and pelt round the corner.

*****

Ray's still yelling loudly to Chris when he drips his way into the kitchen. Chris's no where in sight, the oven's smoking and there are two candles shimmering away to themselves.

Thinking Chris's probably got himself involved in something on the TV and forgotten dinner, he wanders into the front room and sees the front door swinging open and shut in the breeze.

Poking his head outside, he sees the dents all over his car and his stomach coils in on itself.

Ray's mind automatically conjures up horrific images and he finds himself panicking. Blood's rushing past his ears, making his head spin and his eyes water. Fuck!

Running back into the bedroom, he throws on the nearest pair of trousers, forgets the shirt and makes a grab for the phone.

It takes two minutes to connect and a further two to answer, all the while Ray's pounding his foot against the floor and scanning the room frantically, as if that'll make Chris appear from the ether.

"Mon brav?"

"Nelson, s'Ray. Is the Guv there?"

"No, went out 'bout half 'n hour ago, took Sam"

"Fuck it!"

"Wha..."

"They come in, get 'em to drive round 'ere, quick"

Not waiting for an answer, Ray slams the receiver down and shoves his shoes on.

Running back outside, he's about to start shouting for Chris when he remembers he's got a radio in the car. About facing, yanking at the handle, Ray growls when the door refuses to open because the twats who've vandalised it have bent the top rims out of shape.

Giving up on the opening the door, Ray pulls back and puts his fist straight through the side window. Snatching up the radio, Ray signals out and hopes that the Guv or the boss are in the car.

"867 to Romeo Foxtrot...Guv, Boss, come in...anyone!"

It hisses and crackles for a second then Sam's voice comes across the waves, "Ray? What's up?"

"No time, look, I think Chris's gone after a bunch of bastards that've been after us"

"Why have they been..."

Mindful of the station's radios picking up the broadcast, Ray grips the handset tight and grits his teeth "Found out about us, you know..."

"Shit!"

"Exactly. Get over..."

"Ray!"

"Guv?"

"Where are ya?"

"Outside mine, he could be 'alf way to any fuckin' where by now"

"Calm down, we'll be there in five minutes"

"I've gotta..."

"Don't you dare!"

Ray ignores the threat in Gene's voice and throws the handset onto the passenger seat. Taking off in the direction he thinks they'll have gone, Ray doesn't hear the string of expletives Gene lets loose, or the Cortina's engine firing up.

*****

Chris's panting, his side's killing him but he's not gonna let the little scroat's get away with wrecking his other half's car. He can see them, they're fifteen feet in front of him and running hell for leather round every corner they come up against.

Putting as much into it as he can, Chris pumps his legs and attempts to catch up. Skidding round a corner, Chris runs head on into sixteen stone of skinhead.

Laughing, the guy grabs his shoulders and spins him so that he's pinned up against his chest, facing the other git who's clucking and shaking his head, "Silly little gay man. Didn't think we'd actually run from a poof did ya?"

Realising his mistake, Chris begins to struggle against the strong hands holding him. When he can't dislodge them, Chris throws his head back into the guy's nose.

Grunting and stumbling, he takes Chris with him until they're sprawled on the floor in a heap. Chris's about to make a run for it when he feels another set of hands yanking him up and throwing him into the wall.

Cracking his head, Chris's vision blurs and he feels his stomach contents coming up. Fighting the waves of nausea, he gets to his feet and faces them defiantly.

Using the wall to hold himself up, Chris sneers and spits, "Come on then, think jus' 'cos I take it up the arse you can get away with..."

The fist that crashes into his jaw silences him and sends him flying back into the wall, cracking his head again and causing a slow trickle of blood to slide down his neck.

Shaking his head, trying to clear his scattered thoughts, Chris hollers, pushes away from the wall and throws himself at the two smiling idiots.

*****

Gene skids to a halt outside Ray's flat, sees the state of his DS's car and throws the Cortina into reverse. Sam doesn't complain about his driving once, simply points towards the one way street and holds on.

*****

Huffing, puffing and begging with whoever might be listening that he finds Chris before his lungs give out, Ray hurtles round a corner and sees what looks scarily like Chris, huddled on the floor, arms over his head, covered in blood with two fuckers taking it in turns to kick him anywhere they can.

Roaring, Ray's instincts kick in over his nerves and he hurls himself at the two men.

Slamming into the back of one of the skinheads, Ray punches him in the kidneys hard enough to throw him over Chris's still form and straight into the wall. His face smashes into the brick and Ray feels the other one twist before he sees it and automatically ducks the fist that comes his way.

Spinning, almost toppling, Ray lashes out and buries his toe in the back of his knee, dropping him long enough for Ray to bend down and drag Chris behind him.

Snarling, Ray tries to ignore Chris's pained whimpers and launches himself forward. He's not quick enough and they both sweep a leg underneath him, causing him to fall sideways, crashing heavily into the cobbles.

Grunting, he rights himself before they've had chance to advance and head buts the nearest bloke in the stomach, making him crumple.

The one still standing balls both fists together and brings them down on the top of Ray's head, causing his neck to twist painfully. Fighting through the spinning, Ray stumbles upright and rams an elbow into his face, disintegrating his nose.

Ray hears the grinding hiss of the Cortina's engine before he realises who it is and spins. Distracted, Ray doesn't see the two men coming for him and ends up curled on the floor, clutching his sides, attempting to defend himself against the boots battering his ribs.

In between kicks, Ray sees two familiar pairs of shoes running towards him and allows himself to relax. The next boot that sinks into his stomach, Ray wraps himself around and pulls backwards, causing the guy above him to fall backwards.

Gene sees both his men lying on the ground and does what comes naturally. Instead of shouting a warning, Gene whips out his gun and fires off two shots that barely miss both men still trying to attack Ray.

As Ray topples one of them, Sam runs forward, throws himself down next to Chris and checks for a pulse. It's strong, stronger than his appearance would've led Sam to believe. Satisfied that Chris'll be ok, despite the pallor of his skin and the amount of blood covering his clothes, Sam rises and launches himself at the guy still standing.

Together, Gene and Sam wrap their arms round his waist and link fingers. Pulling as hard as they can, Gene sweeps a foot under his and Sam buries a knee in the back of his leg.

He drops, withers in their arms and falls limply to the ground. 

Heaving for breath, Gene and Sam turn as one and split off to check each of their friends.

Ray's awake, Chris's barely conscious.

Sam has to hold Ray down while Gene cuffs the bastards and tries to sit Chris up. When Chris groans in pain, Ray struggles but he's too weak to do much with Sam sat on his legs, "No, Ray. Stay"

"I'm not a friggin' dog"

"Sometimes I wonder"

Spitting blood and sneering at Sam, Ray allows himself to relax back. Everything hurts but he's more worried about Chris who's head is still flopping from side to side. He can see Gene trying to rouse him but the Guv's practically having to cuddle him to keep him upright.

"Chris, come on lad, wake up" Gene watches Chris's eyes flutter and recognition seep back through and feels himself relax a bit. As Chris leans into Gene's arms, Gene turns his attention to Ray who's lying flat out against the cobbles, "What the 'ell 'appened!"

Ray rolls his head, looks directly at Gene and tells him exactly what's been going on for the last week.

Gene's fire laced anger is palpable as Ray describes the provocation in the pub, the graffiti and the vandalism. Sam can see the muscles in his jaw clenching tighter and tighter until he thinks Gene's teeth will shatter.

"Fuckin' cunts!"

As Gene and Sam help Ray and Chris to their feet and radio for backup, Sam feels his heart sink and his stomach twist and ripple. 

In 30 years time, Ray and Chris might be able to lead a happy undisturbed life. Until then, they'll always have to apologize for who and what they are, always looking over their shoulders for people just like the ones currently lying unconscious, for fear of persecution.

It's not fair, it's not right but it's the best they're gonna get. 


End file.
